HEIFEIGU -Chapter 76

The morning’s scheduled opening ceremony was postponed.

Everyone waited for Zhao Chaoran for an hour. Director Yang, looking grim, took a call, cursed briefly, and then gave everyone time off.

Once the crew dispersed, Sister Yue live-streamed some staff gossip to Xie Jixing—the dialogue was entertaining.

“The reason for the delay—I know! My cousin works at that hotel.”

“The male lead, right? I heard that Mr. Wu he brought… passed out in the hotel room last night. Nobody knew until this morning. They finally carried him out.”

“When he was carried out, his whole body was limp. Arms and legs dangling. He couldn’t speak. Though awake, his brain seemed broken, only babbling nonsense.”

“And, I heard…” She gestured everyone closer.

Yue Qinyao leaned in to listen.

The staff huddled mysteriously. “What is it?”

“Something explosive? Why so secretive?”

Once gathered, Sister Yue squatted above them, whispering: “He… can’t be used down there either. The shape is all weird. It’s a disaster.”

Sister Yue chimed in: “Wow, that’s really explosive!”

The crowd laughed. Someone asked, “What caused it? Why suddenly like this?”

The insider sneered, “What else? Took too many drugs.”

“They said the whole nervous system was damaged, can’t be treated, probably permanent. I think he’s ruined.”

“And Zhao family’s guy gets nothing good either. He brought him, now look—Wu family won’t let him off. It’s probably a bad ending.”

After hearing the gossip, Xie Jixing cursed silently in his heart: serves him right!

He had only rebounded slightly, yet he had caused this much trouble—clearly, the person had done many despicable things before.

Since he couldn’t power on the device for the time being, Xie Jixing treated it as a paid vacation and decided to use this window to solve the problems troubling Qian Shuyun.

He grabbed him and headed straight for the archives.

Although they had filmed several times at this studio base, Qian Shuyun had never actually been to this tucked-away corner of the archives.

From the moment he stepped inside, Qian Shuyun felt uneasy. It was as if his whole body were enclosed in a plastic dome, separated by a subtle layer from the real world.

When the name “Yin Wenshan” flashed before his eyes, his heart suddenly felt stabbed with needles, both aching and burning. Reading the reports about Yin Wenshan, Qian Shuyun even felt a sudden urge to cry.

Xie Jixing quickly noticed his abnormal state. A small cluster of dark fire ignited in his palm as he grabbed Qian Shuyun’s wrist.

The thin membrane enclosing Qian Shuyun melted away, and the physical discomfort slowly disappeared. Only now could he truly view Yin Wenshan’s materials through his own perspective.

Yet the words in the documents felt discordant. Qian Shuyun felt that the person described in these newspapers was not the real Yin Wenshan.

The more he read, the darker Qian Shuyun’s expression became. By the time he walked out of the archives, deep furrows had formed between his brows.

“Your body still feels unwell?” Xie Jixing considered whether to increase Qian Shuyun’s dosage.

“My body’s fine…” Seeing Xie Jixing’s concerned gaze, Qian Shuyun suddenly felt an urge to confide, “Actually, I know Yin Wenshan.”

“When I was little, I loved watching movies. My elders supported me and collected many old film reels for me, including those starring Yin Wenshan.”

“I was captivated by his acting style. After watching one, I became obsessed and asked my family to help collect all the surviving reels.”

“I even secretly imitated his performances. Part of why I became an actor was influenced by Yin Wenshan,” Qian Shuyun said with a bitter smile. “He was… my idol.”

Xie Jixing nodded knowingly, patting Qian Shuyun’s shoulder in comfort.

So it was idol collapse—and a severe one at that. No wonder he felt so unhappy.

“I never specifically studied Yin Wenshan’s life, since he had passed away long ago. So seeing these materials today felt very disjointed,” Qian Shuyun paused. “It’s as if the Yin Wenshan I saw in movies and the one in these documents are completely different people.”

What he said piqued Xie Jixing’s interest. He had Qian Shuyun pull a few digitized films from home, and they returned to Room 714 to watch them together.

The low-resolution black-and-white films projected onto a high-definition LED TV looked especially blurry, but the moment Yin Wenshan appeared on screen, Xie Jixing immediately understood what Qian Shuyun meant by dissonance.

In the films, Yin Wenshan played a charming playboy in the foreign concession. Despite the flirtatious character, his posture and aura never felt sleazy or unpleasant.

His peach-blossom-shaped eyes curved upward, full of emotion yet carrying a sharp, righteous edge. His thin lips hinted at detachment but conveyed determination. He was like an elegant, philosophical enigma, irresistible to curiosity.

As for the tabloid gossip about countless socialites competing for him, Xie Jixing believed it. Just by standing there, Yin Wenshan seemed to naturally make people fall in love with him.

It was no wonder that even someone as outstanding as Qian Shuyun had once idolized him.

Xie Jixing focused on the screen, murmuring softly, “No matter what, he doesn’t seem like a traitor.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Qian Shuyun felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his chest. He clutched his heart, bent over, gasping for breath, unable to speak.

Cold sweat rolled down his forehead. Qian Shuyun could no longer support himself, collapsing to his knees in pain.

The room was instantly filled with violent ghostly energy, saturated with murderous intent seeping from every corner.

Caught off guard, Xie Jixing ignited a dark flame in his hand and pressed it against Qian Shuyun’s chest to temporarily ease the pain. Then he turned and shouted at Yue Qinyao and unlucky ghost, who were frozen in place, “Yue, take unlucky ghost and get out!”

Yue Qinyao regained her senses, her black hair surging violently.

“I can stay and help.”

Xie Jixing bit his fingertip, looking at her with a determined gaze.

“I treat unlucky ghost like a younger brother. Watch over him, don’t let him get hurt—that’s helping me. Trust me, Yue, you’ll be back in less than half an hour.”

The unlucky ghost was too intimidated by the ghostly energy to move; his form even became semi-transparent. If he didn’t leave, he might be torn apart by the terrifying energy.

Yue Qinyao, risking everything, might fight the ghost for a few moves, but the result would certainly be her being devoured or reduced to ashes.

Her surging black hair wrapped tightly around the unlucky ghost, dragging him out of the room.

Once he was far enough from the epicenter of the ghost energy, the unlucky ghost regained his senses. He tried to summon his own energy to move toward Xie Jixing, but he was too weak and could only watch helplessly as Xie Jixing moved farther away.

Xie Jixing wiped the blood from his fingertip on his brow, focused, and for the first time summoned his true weapon: the Ten-Thousand-Coin Sword.

It was a small sword made from copper coins, seemingly harmless, almost like a decorative piece. But the moment it appeared, the ghost energy surged violently.

The ghost that had been hiding seemed determined to fight this time.

The sword glowed a faint blue. Xie Jixing calmly stared at the area with the strongest energy—the recently replaced full-length mirror.

The mirror continuously displayed twisted, distorted images, and black energy leaked from its edges.

“I don’t know if you’re Yin Wenshan,” Xie Jixing said coldly to the mirror, “but you’ve already formed murderous intent. Whether you’re a superstar or a celestial king, today I will take you down.”

As he ran his fingers along the blade, Xie Jixing was about to strike, when his wrist was grasped by a sweaty hand.

“Wait.” Qian Shuyun’s words were forced out between gritted teeth; he almost used all his strength to stop Xie Jixing.

Xie Jixing turned, puzzled, looking down at him. “He tried to kill you—why would you stop me?”

Qian Shuyun’s expression was calm, his eyes toward Xie Jixing blank, with only a hint of confusion—completely unfamiliar.

Qian Shuyun even felt that holding Xie Jixing’s wrist was almost a sacrilege to him.

This was a distant, unreachable Xie Jixing, a completely strange version of him.

At that moment, the desire to hold onto this person and get a response overpowered his physical pain. Qian Shuyun struggled to rise, gripping Xie Jixing’s wrist even tighter.

“Please, don’t take him yet. He’s Yin Wenshan.”

“There’s more to this story.”

Qian Shuyun pressed so hard that several red fingerprints appeared on Xie Jixing’s wrist. He looked at the marks, then at the trembling Qian Shuyun on the floor. “But it hurts you a lot.”

“I can endure it,” Qian Shuyun forced a twisted smile. “I can endure it…”

Another wave of pain hit. His fingers began to weaken and slide down. Xie Jixing sighed softly, “Sigh.”

“I don’t know how long you’ll have to endure, or if I can lessen your pain. Qian Shuyun, do you insist on doing this?”

“Yes…” Though faint, his reply reached Xie Jixing clearly.

The glow of the Ten-Thousand-Coin Sword dimmed slightly. Xie Jixing traced a special talisman on the mirror. The inscriptions lit up, leaving coin-shaped imprints. All the ghost energy in the room was gathered into the mirror.

The temporarily sealed mirror no longer showed distorted images, forming a whirlpool like a black hole.

The room calmed. Qian Shuyun’s pain lessened slightly, though the deep chill in his bones remained, as if his organs were frozen. The cold was followed by a burning sensation.

His hair and clothes were soaked in sweat, tears smeared his face, but he had no strength to care, lying sideways on the floor, breathing cautiously to ease the pain.

It was almost the most miserable moment of his life, like a stray dog drenched by a storm, dirty and bedraggled, trudging through black water.

A warm towel gently wiped the sweat and tears from his face. Xie Jixing, having put away the Ten-Thousand-Coin Sword, returned to his soft demeanor. “The ghost energy on you is Yin Wenshan’s mark. He wants to hunt you.”

If Qian Shuyun hadn’t intervened, Yin Wenshan’s spirit would have been destroyed. But since Qian Shuyun was the victim, the decision rightly belonged to him.

Xie Jixing helped him sit up, leaning on the sofa, wiping his sweat. “Do you still insist on your decision?”

Qian Shuyun, who had previously avoided Xie Jixing out of embarrassment, finally looked up. “I do. In the illusion just now, I saw some things. I want to find out the truth.”

One head bowed, the other raised—their distance closed suddenly. Qian Shuyun’s eyes, it turned out, were ash-gray.

“You’ll have to enter the illusion again. It might be cruel, it might be painful, and even I might not be able to help you,” Xie Jixing said, his gaze fixed on Qian Shuyun’s beautiful ash-gray eyes. “You will become Yin Wenshan.”